


Ama Me Fideliter

by FilipaMariaKecharitomene



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men Evolution
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Family, Forced Marriage, Roman Empire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29779137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FilipaMariaKecharitomene/pseuds/FilipaMariaKecharitomene
Summary: Non-powered AU: In the cruelest days of the Roman Empire, Rogue suffers persecution for merely being what she is. Yet with an unexpected mercy granted from an unlikely source, so that faith, hope, and love remains. And the greatest of these is love. For Gambit/Rogue Week 2021. Prompts include: 'Alternate Universe & 'Trust Me'
Relationships: Remy LeBeau/Rogue, Rogue & Kurt Wagner
Kudos: 10





	Ama Me Fideliter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DayenuRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DayenuRose/gifts).



_For Gambit/Rogue Week 2021._ _**'Alternate Universe'**_ _ **'Trust Me' and technically** **'Irene' or 'Olivier, Rebecca, and Irene being raised together'**_

**Also be sure to check out my other Gambit/Rogue Week fics, "Never Stopped Looking" and "Long Way Home"**

* * *

_Si vis amari, ama ~ Seneca_

* _(If you wish to be loved, love)_

* * *

_Roman Empire 305 A.D._

* * *

Rays of the moon poured down into the country villa, over the fertile slopes that made the hills of Nicomedia. Silvery vineyards and tall poplar trees stood as silent sentinels around the home of one of the city's wealthy families. It was a proud, yet understated villa _,_ a _latifundium_ as it were, specializing in agriculture destined for export: grains, olive oil, and wine. Seated around a great courtyard, the torches had been doused for the evening, leaving hidden the figures of a young man and woman hustling back to it the cover of darkness.

To look at them, one would never guess they had grown up in the same privileged household; the young woman was clothed in a silken green tunica, with gold fibula pinning it in place at her slender shoulders, while a white veil delicately spilled down her back like moonlight, as pure-spun as the childhood she had shared with the young man, who was half-hidden in the rough cloak of his brown robes. Robes of a vagabond and holy man, of piety and humility while she was...she didn't want to think about it. So instead the seventeen-year-old girl scrambled over to the outer wall, ready to climb its mass of vines, pausing only to look back at her elfish foster brother.

It was a visit long waited for, just the two of them, walking about the shadows of the hills. And over far too soon.

"Ah don't want ya ta go," she whispered. Kurt only smiled sadly down at her.

"I'll see you at the next meeting with our brothers and sisters, Anna," he promised her faithfully. "Just like before."

She blinked furiously, eventually wiping her eyes with the corners of her veil, ivory bangs falling loose and wild as they once did. "It ain't the same."

Kurt's brave face cracked a little at that, and he swallowed. "I...I know...but it God's will, Anna. We must simply trust in it."

Taking her hand, her brother carefully drew the sign of the ichthus fish on her palm. "Love of Christ be with you sister. Always."

With nothing more to say, Rogue scrambled over the top of the wall, expertly lowering herself back into the peristyle courtyard of the house that the Diocletianic courts had sentenced her to live, once they found out about the faith of her and her brother.

Her lip curled. They hadn't been bothering no one. Caused no troubles. The orphaned wards of a wealthy philosopher Xavier; Rogue and Kurt had both been drawn to a fervent _hope,_ promised by the new faith sweeping the Empire, speaking words of comfort and love in such a harsh unforgiving world. Inspired, they had spent their un-needed fortune on almsgiving and charitable works alongside their friends -fellow pupils of the great Xavier.

She shuddered as she walked 'round the reflection pool, pulling her veil tighter over her braided auburn hair and delicate earrings. But that wasn't how the Emperor's bloodhounds of a policy saw it, 'specially after the Emperor had ordered the newly built church at Nicomedia be razed, its scriptures burnt, and its precious stones seized and it surely hadn't been long 'fore the authorities were dragging them, and others like them, to the local tribunal for trial.

And for _what_ , she remembered screaming, howling. What had they _done?!_ Unfortunately, that wasn't considered a good defense before Governor Magnus, whose pitiless eyes hadn't cared that they were the same age as his own son and daughter, that he'd known them for _years_ , as he judged them without pity, without love. When they had refused to offer sacrifice on the altar of Jupiter, their fates had been sealed with a flick of his finger. Kurt would serve on a galley ship, rowing and chained forever. And Rogue...would be slapped in a collar, stripped of her garments, and hauled off to the city's nearest brothel - life and maidenhead for sale.

She stopped walking and hugged herself in the moonlight, mossy eyes pensive and hard. Least...that's what _would've_ happened to her -if the former slave, adopted younger son, and current charioteer, called _Gambit_ for his reckless maneuvering, of Senator Lebeau hadn't stepped forward, with his devil's eyes and charmed grinned, proposing a 'better' plan.

That instead of throwing a highborn Roman virgin to the slave market, why not throw her -and her dowry of course- into the marriage bed of one who had spent the last year trying (and failing) to court her?

Rogue remembered how she'd stuttered, while Magnus considered -and then agreed, gesturing for the guards to literally toss her, chained, into Gambit's arms. And without much exertion on his part (what could she do? He was five years older than her, and made strong by his handling of horses) he'd taken her to his home.

While her brother was hauled away to his own fate.

She swallowed hard against the memory as she entered the red and white geometric walls of the house, padding quieter down the tiled hallways. She remembered sobbing that entire first night (her _'wedding night_ ' she snorted).

Then she softened, fingers easing on her own pale arms. And to Gambit's credit, he hadn't taken anything from her that night, when he'd come to their bed.

Instead, he had something to offer.

_"Know what it be like,_ " he murmured quietly; her crumpled form curled on the cushions beside him, thin body dry-heaving in misery. _"T' have everythin' y' are taken 'way. Been dere, chere. Know it ain't to be envy."_

She hadn't responded, couldn't, and refused to speak. Not until she felt his arms going around her, pulling her close. Terrified, she squirmed, a fish desperate to get off the hook. But he only held tighter, shushing and rocking her until even her merger protests were lulled into the submission of sleep.

That had been over two years ago, and Rogue's eyes darted about certain parts of the house, remembering one night how Remy had watched her at the loom, weaving his own foster brother's funeral shroud by firelight, after his fatal crash in the circuit. The chair where he'd surprised her with some of her belongings from her old house. The table where she first set out a meal for him, made by her own hands. The entrance to the stables, where Remy allowed her to drive a racing cart beside him one morning. And the Artium, where, after Remy had informed her Kurt had been ransomed from slavery by fellow priests, and that he was on his way back to visit her...that was where she'd flung her arms' 'round him, and finally let herself kiss him for the first time. Slanted and adoring.

Rogue blushed. Which...well...had lead to them finally _finishing_ their wedding night.

And for all that she had come to love him -to _want_ him- for all that she'd technically been his wife for over a year, she had still been impossibly nervous when he clothed her in himself, and setting off a fire in her she'd never imagined was possible. She'd never imagined _this_ was possible. Her. Doing this. She was completely unprepared.

_"Eh...eh,_ " he'd murmured, clever hands framing her face, forehead to forehead, bone of his bone, flesh of his flesh. His eyes seeking out her own, crimson flames like twin hearths.

_"Trust me,"_ he whispered.

She remembered staring into those incredible eyes, blood-red pools of crucifixion, turned to resurrection, feeling submerged and re-birthed before she worked up the courage to nod and surrender completely, forcing her limbs to relax. He took her surrender and it was like nothing she has ever known. She remembered darkness, being amazed at the feelings, the intensity of what was happening. Weeping in pain-mixed-pleasure, nails in his skin, and becoming, becoming, _becoming_...

No longer herself. No longer him. Something new. One thing.

She also remembered the shy _quiet_ that came after, her softness laying submerged beneath his strength, wondering silently at what they had just done. And what they'd allowed themselves to become.

" _Amor omnia vincit,"_ Remy had mused at last, once he had pulled away, and then held her close, her head resting to the thunder of his heartbeat, his fingers brushing light patterns on her arm.

" _Amor numquam fallit_..." Rogue muttered out loud, as she entered the bedchamber she shared with her husband, only to yelp when strong arms curled 'round her waist, familiar lips marking the soft spot between her shoulder and her neck.

"Glad y' be thinkin' so, chere," he said against her skin, one hand already tugging the veil off her white and brown curls. Twisting, Rogue huffed, hitting a bangled hand to Remy's bare chest.

"Hold ya horses a bit, Ah just got in!" she cried. He only grinned, eyes glowing like sunsets over the hills.

"Missed y' though," he teased, before his expression grew serious,"How was yo' brother's visit?"

Rogue's smile slipped, and she sighed, arms going around herself for comfort. "Ah don't know...Ah mean, Ah'm so glad Ah got to see him again...Ah never thought Ah would... and that he's alright...but...it ain't the same. _We_ ain't the same."

Her chin started to duck. "'Specially _me..._ "

Her husband's rough hand found its way under her chin, lifting it with his thumb on her cheek. Despite his gentleness, his expression was more closed, the crimson now rimmed with neutral fire.

"Y' say that like it somethin' to be 'shamed of," he stated, tone fishing, baited in a way he knew she couldn't resist. His eyes narrowed, head cocking. "Did y' tell him 'bout-"

Rogue's eyes went wide. "Oh no, no...not yet...Ah wanted to...but...Ah didn't want to overwhelm 'im Remy."

When he was silent, she padded closer, and it was her turn now to frame his lean face in her hands, tugging his forehead down to her own.

"It ain't cause Ah'm ashamed, Rem..." she breathed out, stubble against her fingers. "Got nothin' ta be 'shamed of with you..trust me."

That got him, she could tell, his muscles relaxing, the crimson of his gaze burning softer now. His hands found her hips, grinning turning teasing.

"Think I might need a little more convicin', _chere amor_ ," he hummed, right over her mouth.

She snorted, then smirked, ready to match him when the keening wails of an infant echo through the household, and with their luck, down the hills to their neighbors.

Eyes meeting, soon they were moving as one to the adjourning room besides their own. It took a moment to adjust to the dimmer light come off the low burning blazer, cloaking the room in warm shades of red and black. Which provided an astonishing effect on the murals of lions and charioteers and the pools of ichthus fish that covered the walls. Gingerly stepping around the toys the lay spewed over the floor, the parents came to the side of the cradle that held two-month-old babies -their boy and their girl.

"Eh, _eh_ ," Remy breathed out to their whimpering daughter, scooping Rebecca up and holding her to his chest to compare heartbeats. Two of his fingers ghosted over her belly, tickling her. "Dere's m' brave girl."

"Meanwhile your son sleeps to beat the dead," Rogue said wryly, turning with snoring Olivier in her arms. Remy's fingers reached over to brush his boy's hair.

"Dey gettin' better at sleepin' the whole night through," he mused out loud. Rogue nodded absently, setting Olivier down.

"Good thing too," she muttered, going slightly pink at what her body had confirmed for her this morning. Swallowing, she turned, and seeing that Remy had set Rebecca down, took his hand and set it on her stomach. Remy started, then lifted the red resurrection of his gaze to meet her own, astonished.

"Anna, y' not-"

She grinned a bit. "Apparently."

"It's only been two months since y' had de twins..."

Her brow arched. "And whose fault is that?"

His own brow arched back at her. "Y' had somthin' to do with it I think chere."

She sniggered. Cause that was the truth, no denying it.

Then his gaze flickered, becoming worried. "Y'll be okay?"

That made her somber -childbirth was dangerous, laying low even the strongest of women. But the only way to avoid it was abstinence and well... _that_ just wasn't happening. Not in this house. Be fruitful and multiply right? Rogue could take the consequences of her actions.

Her arms went 'round him, her mouth raising up to kiss his lips, soft and sweet.

"Ah'll be fine, Remy," she said, hoping that was a promise she could keep. Not wanting to dwell on it, she traced her fingers down his spine, loving how his skin shivered under her touch. "Come to bed."

And for the first time since their _first_ time, he hesitated. "Y' sure?"

"Ain't no more trouble you can get me into, husband mine," she teased. That brought a grin to his face that quickly turned deadly.

"Spose not," he said, before picking her up and carrying her back the way they came, and their tumble onto the bed was something far deeper than touch, more scared than skin. Any lovers could touch skin. How many thought to reached for Soul?

So no...this...this was something patient. Something kind. Something that refused the power to dishonor others. And always protected. Always trusted. Always persevered. Enduring all things.

_"Amor numquam fallit,"_ she repeated, gasped out, as Remy pressed her into the mattress, and she strained against him in a delicate arch as he kissed her throat.

_"Amor omnia vincit,"_ he chuckled. Before his face softened above her own, while he began within her. _"Et nos cedamus amori."_

"Amen to that," she whispered. She kissed the side of his head when they were done, one hand stroking his hair as they settled. At peace.

* * *

_Nunc autem manet fides spes caritas tria haec maior autem his est caritas ~ Corinthians 13:13_ * _(And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love)_

* * *

_Finis_

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Read and Review! Also, if anyone reading this has any artistic talent on devianart, please feel free to draw scenes from this AU

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Latin sayings: _Amor omnia vincit,_ _Et nos cedamus amori ~ Love conquers all, so let us yield to love  
_

_Amor numquam fallit ~ Love never fails (in reference to the famous_ _1 Corinthians 13:8)_

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**Author's Note:**

> Historical notes: The Diocletianic or Great Persecution was the last and most severe persecution of Christians in the Roman Empire. In 303, the Emperors Diocletian, Maximian, Galerius, and Constantius issued a series of edicts rescinding Christians' legal rights and demanding that they comply with traditional religious rites. Nicomedia was at the center of it. I often wondered if the creators of X men took inspiration from these events.
> 
> The ichthus fish is a symbol of Christ that predates the Cross.
> 
> Rogue's original and later punishment was similar to ones suffered by true Christians Martyrs Agnes and Agatha and Cecilia of the era.
> 
> And is it just me, or is Remy hot when he's flirting in French or Latin? Considering making this a longer five-chapter fic that elaborates the story.


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